


Whisper softly in my ear

by Tovarich



Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [24]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is scared of losing control, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Dreams and Nightmares, Good Omens Celebration 2020, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Rough Sex, Sleep, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25107271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tovarich/pseuds/Tovarich
Summary: "We don't have to do this if you really don't want to. But I know you want to try it. You literally bombarded me with questions about sleep during our dinner. Besides, you promised me you would at least try."Aziraphale sighed. "Fine, I'll try. But you'll have to guide me through it because I have no idea how to do that. It's been such a long time since I last slept."That caught the demon's interest. Aziraphale had never told him that he tried sleeping ever before. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727137
Kudos: 86
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	Whisper softly in my ear

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for day 24 of the Good Omens Celebration was "Dream". I hope you'll enjoy this!

They were lying together on the soft mattress of Crowley's bed, the demon gently running his fingers in Aziraphale's blond curls. It was dark outside, rain softly hitting the windows, creating a calming melody. They had had dinner at the Ritz, coming home to Crowley's flat afterwards. And for some reason, Crowley had succeeded in convincing Aziraphale to try sleeping. They had changed into their pyjamas, Crowley insisting that they needed to be in the perfect conditions for Aziraphale to fully enjoy the experience. Of course, Aziraphale trusted Crowley, if the demon told him it was safe to close his eyes and let go, he had no reason to believe otherwise. It didn't change the fact that Aziraphale was nervous about it.

"Shhh angel. Just close your eyes, you'll be alright," Crowley promised in a whisper, his fingers still combing the angel's hair.

Aziraphale closed his eyes but quickly reopened them. "I don't know, dear. Do we really have to do that?"

Crowley smiled down at him, a look of infinite patience on his face. He didn't want to force Aziraphale into doing something he really didn't want to do, but he knew Aziraphale was curious about this. Moreover, he had no doubt that it would benefit his angel in the end. He had noticed how Aziraphale always looked tense, never letting go, senses always alert and looking for the smallest sign of danger. And it was something the demon could understand, it was the safest way to live for them. But he saw how it weighed on Aziraphale and he knew it would do the angel good to sleep for a bit.

"We don't have to do this if you really don't want to. But I know you want to try it. You literally bombarded me with questions about sleep during our dinner. Besides, you promised me you would at least try."

Aziraphale sighed. "Fine, I'll try. But you'll have to guide me through it because I have no idea how to do that. It's been such a long time since I last slept."

That caught the demon's interest. Aziraphale had never told him that he tried sleeping ever before. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

"It wasn't long after Adam and Eve had been cast out of the Garden. They looked so peaceful as they slept, and I thought it would be an interesting thing to try. I already enjoyed eating, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to indulge in another human activity, you know." Aziraphale hesitated, eyes darting away from Crowley's curious gaze. "It didn't end well. I had a bad dream and then Gabriel screamed at me for being lazy. I hadn't even heard him approach while I was still asleep."

After that, Aziraphale decided he never want to be so vulnerable ever again. An altered state of consciousness where he was completely unaware of what was happening around him was simply too risky. Anything could happen to him and he wouldn't be able to protect himself, to fight back or run away. The awful dream he had had convinced him further that sleeping definitely wasn't for him. His mind was a treacherous thing, always coming up with the worst imaginable scenarios, using all his anxieties and insecurities against him. When he was awake, he could deal with it. But asleep he was defenceless against the cruelty of his own self. No, it was better to stay fully conscious. And even now, despite knowing nothing could hurt him from the outside with Crowley there to protect him, he was reluctant to let go because there wouldn't be anyone to protect him from himself.

"Hey," Crowley said, distracting Aziraphale from his current train of thoughts, "I'll stay awake, I'll talk to you throughout the night, ok? I'll make sure you don't have a nightmare. You'll wake up having dreamed of whatever you like best."

This almost convinced Aziraphale, but it was hard for him to relax. He much preferred constantly being in control. And sleeping meant letting go, trusting Crowley with his safety. He trusted Crowley completely, but to Aziraphale, this felt very much like being told to jump from a cliff while Crowley was at the bottom, promising he would break his fall. It was frightening, even if the person down there was someone he would trust with his own life any day. But he had made a promise, hadn't he? Surely Crowley would be disappointed if he got cold feet. And if there was one thing Aziraphale possibly hated more than not being in control, it was seeing the disappointment on Crowley's face. He had been the cause of that expression far too many times already, he wouldn't cause it once more.

"Alright my dear, I'll try." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, this time refraining from opening them almost as soon as darkness enveloped him.

Crowley's fingers scratched his scalp in a relaxing way. "Thank you, angel. You're doing good. just listen to my voice, alright? Focus on nothing but me." Crowley's voice was a soothing murmur. It was barely audible and yet, it embraced Aziraphale like a warm blanket of words. "Take deep, steady breaths," Crowley said, "feel the way your body sinks slightly into the mattress. Your arms and legs are heavy and completely relaxed. All the tension, all your worries are leaving your body. You feel good, there is nothing that can harm you in any way."

Crowley saw the steady rise and fall of Aziraphale's chest, his eyes were closed but not clenched shut and his whole face looked peaceful. His angel was asleep for the first time in six thousand years. But his work was only beginning now. Getting Aziraphale to fall asleep was only the first part of his mission, now he had to make sure he had a pleasant time.

Aziraphale could still hear Crowley's voice, guiding him through the process of falling asleep. Although, it did sound much more distant than it used to a few minutes earlier. The voice was still there, but Aziraphale couldn't understand the words. It didn't matter, he knew they were kind and caring. He wouldn't dare calling Crowley kind out loud, but in his head he did it all the time, it was his little secret. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but it didn't feel like a long time at all. He started having a dream. Not a very good one, though. He was in a cold, white space, that looked a lot like Heaven. He was wandering through empty, sterile corridors. Clear, bright light that seemed to have no source blinded him, making his eyes water. He didn't know where he was going, nor why he was here. It was made even worse by the fact that Gabriel was in his dream. The archangel was walking briskly in front of him, and Aziraphale knew he was expected to follow him. At every turn, he stopped, waiting for Aziraphale to catch up with him and hit him violently. A punch in his ribs, a slap on his cheek, a kick in his lower belly. However, dream-Gabriel was worse than real-Gabriel and there was absolutely no escape from the abrasive words and unforgiving fists that left bruises on his skin and heart alike.

But as always, Crowley came to rescue him. he could hear his voice before he saw him, saying "don't worry angel, I'm here, you're safe. There's nothing that can hurt you, just focus on my voice and everything will be alright." And of course, Aziraphale did as Crowley asked, just like he always did. Dream-Crowley was just as dashing as real-Crowley, thin hips moving like a pendulum as he walked towards them. The demon hissed at Gabriel, something that might have been words but was completely unintelligible to Aziraphale. It didn't matter. Gabriel recoiled, taking a step back. He had a sword in his hand now, threatening Crowley with it. Aziraphale gasped, he wanted to scream at Crowley to be careful, wanted to tug on his hand and run away, as far as possible. His voice was stuck in his throat, lips forming silent words, chest heaving with soundless sobs. He was paralysed, feet glued to the immaculate marble floor, limbs heavy as lead. He couldn't move, couldn't help Crowley. Useless, helpless, pathetic. The voice in his head grew louder and louder until it was all he could hear. There was something salty and bitter on his tongue, disgusting, there was something coppery too. Blood and bile and tears. Crowley was fighting Gabriel, his dark blood gushing from deep wounds and Aziraphale couldn't do anything to save him. Gabriel was laughing, his head thrown back. The sound of it never reached Aziraphale's ears. All he could hear was the litany of _stupid, weak, useless, pathetic_ that his inner voice was shouting in rhythm with the erratic beating of his heart in his chest. But Crowley was strong, Crowley didn't need to be rescued, Crowley was injured but still valiantly fighting. With teeth and claws he lunged at Gabriel, taking advantage of the archangel's distraction. He bit him in the neck, making golden blood spurt out, staining Crowley's black clothes, his face, the white floor. Gabriel's body fell to the ground when Crowley relinquished his tight grip on the limp corpse. Aziraphale was still petrified, unable to look away from Crowley's face, covered in gold-stained scales. He was still deaf, unable to hear the soothing sound of Crowley's voice. He noticed absently that there were tears on his cheeks.

And then, Crowley was there, clawed fingers tenderly stroking his cheeks. He could feel his sharp fangs grazing his lips, careful not to break the skin. Yellow eyes looked at him with love and worry. Aziraphale was pulled in a tight embrace, flush against Crowley's wounded chest. He heard the beating of a heart, a pulse that was not his. Aziraphale closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of safety. All at once, sound came rushing back to his ears: desperate sobs, joined heartbeats, soothing words he couldn't comprehend. His whole body hurt as tension left his muscles: his knees buckled, his arms lifted to wrap around Crowley's neck, his fingers dug in Crowley's black jacket. "I love you, you're safe, my angel." Those were the first words Aziraphale understood, spoken softly in Crowley's hissing voice. He closed his eyes once more.

When he opened his eyes again, they were in a garden, lush green leaves and colourful flowers surrounding them. They were sitting under a tree. An apple tree, Aziraphale noticed, and Crowley was handing him a fruit. It was red, tempting, smelling sweet. Aziraphale didn't resist, he bit into the sugary flesh without taking the apple from Crowley's hand, allowing the demon to lick the juice that dribbled down his chin. Aziraphale moaned around a bite of apple and Crowley's mouth dipped lower, down his jaw, along his neck, to the hollow of his throat. Aziraphale moaned again, for a different reason. He looked down at Crowley and realised they were both naked. Had they always been naked? He didn't know, he couldn't remember. Everything was hazy, blurry around the edges. When he tried to focus on a thought, it fled, hiding in some inaccessible corner of Aziraphale's mind. It didn't matter either way, because Crowley's mouth was on him, savouring Aziraphale as Aziraphale was savouring the forbidden fruit. Why was it forbidden, already? He had known once, when Crowley's sinful tongue was lapping at his sensitive nipple, when his sharp fingernails weren't leaving red, swollen tracks down Aziraphale's torso. He threw his head back, hitting the trunk of the tree behind him. The apple rolled from his fingers, hand too weak to hold onto it. Instead, his thick fingers tangled in Crowley's long, red curls. There was a heat in his lower belly, an ache between his legs. His whole body was shivering with pleasure and desire. And then, there was a hand on his leaking cock, Crowley's slander hand, stroking him until his vision went white. But Crowley wasn't done, and soon, there were fingers inside him, stretching him, making him moan and writhe under their ministrations. Crowley's mouth was on him, swallowing him whole and Aziraphale thought he could have come again. But Crowley's mouth had come to whisper in his ear, saying "not now, angel, not until I say you can." Aziraphale whimpered but nodded nonetheless. He would do everything Crowley said, he would be good for him.

"Please," Aziraphale moaned, "Please Crowley, I need you, I need you, please."

And Crowley always gave Aziraphale what he needed. Crowley was inside him, moving in him. He instantly set a quick, brutal pace, not even waiting for Aziraphale to adjust. Aziraphale had wanted to ask Crowley to do this countless times before, but never found the courage to. It wasn't that he was scared of Crowley refusing to do this, neither was it because he was afraid of Crowley hurting him. No, it was because Aziraphale was still terrified of losing control, of not being the one in charge. He wanted to let go, but there was still something holding him back. He wasn't scared now, though, with Crowley thrusting into him with abandon. This was perfect, just on the edge of too much, with Crowley leaving purple bruises and vicious bitemarks all over Aziraphale's soft skin. One of Aziraphale's hand was gripping Crowley's bony shoulder, leaving deep crescents into the pale skin. The other was buried in the soft, slightly damp ground. There were tears on his face and Crowley's forked tongue lapped at them, following stray tears down his cheeks, to his open mouth. Aziraphale couldn't catch his breath, it had been lost between one moan and the next. There were nails on his inner thighs, deliciously painful and kisses on his forehead, painfully tender.

And there was Crowley's voice in his ear, saying, "My perfect angel, you're doing so good, taking it all so well for me."

It was all too much for Aziraphale, the contradicting sensations of pain and pleasure, the gentleness of Crowley's voice and the roughness of his thrusts, the sharpness of his claws and the softness of his kisses. It was overwhelming and it was exactly what Aziraphale had needed. He had given Crowley complete control over him and he regretted nothing. And then, Crowley's voice was back on his ear.

"My beautiful angel," he whispered, "come for me."

And Aziraphale came. His whole body spasmed with the force of his orgasm, eyes rolled to the back of his head, back arched off the ground and into Crowley's strong arms. A few thrusts later, Crowley buried himself deep in Aziraphale and came with the angel's name on his lips.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and gone was the lush garden, the bright flowers, the sugary apples. He was in Crowley's bed, with Crowley propped on one elbow looking down at him. Aziraphale yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When he stretched his legs, however, he felt something wet and sticky between his legs. Remembering the last part of his dream, Aziraphale groaned even as a blush crept on his cheeks.

Crowley chuckled pressing a kiss on Aziraphale's forehead. "Someone had a nice dream, it seems," he said with a smirk.

"Ah-uh-well," Aziraphale stammered, "it didn't start so well, but suffice to say you took good care of me, in the end."

"Always, angel," Crowley whispered, lips leaving a gentle kiss on his nose before landing on his plump lips, "always."

Aziraphale smiled, it was nice to be like this with Crowley, to wake up next to him, to open his eyes and find Crowley gazing lovingly at him. Was that how Crowley felt when he woke up with Aziraphale reading on the mattress beside him? If so, Aziraphale understood why Crowley always looked so happy in those brief seconds. Aziraphale wanted to stay in bed, wrapped in Crowley's arms, snuggled against his chest, just enjoying each other's presence. The day was still young, the sky still coloured with the rose and orange hues of dawn. They had all of eternity ahead of them. But he felt gross. He could have miracled the mess in pants away, but he felt like doing it the human way. Showering or bathing was another activity he knew Crowley enjoyed, and it had been such a long time since Aziraphale had done it. He hadn't realised he had missed it before that exact moment, in Crowley's bed.

"I really want to take a bath, my dear. Would you be interested in joining me?"

"Sure," Crowley said, leaving kisses down Aziraphale's exposed throat.

In one fluid movement, he was out of his bed with an angel in his arms, heading towards the bathroom. The bathtub was already filled with hot water, just the perfect temperature. With a quick miracle they were both naked. Aziraphale sighed when Crowley put him down delicately into the water before joining him. They both relaxed, relishing in the simple intimacy of taking a bath together. They had never done this before, not like this, not just the two of them in the privacy of their flats. It was the first time, but judging by Aziraphale's sighs of pleasure as Crowley massaged his scalp and cleaned his hair, it wouldn't be the last.


End file.
